Deep Obsessions, Fred Confessions
by TiaTodd
Summary: Laylin Fisher, a seventh year Ravenclaw, has a magazine article to get published. Is there a reason she chose Hermione for her interview? - Sort of like a string of one-shots. All flashbacks. Sort of AU, but not terribly.


Heels or flats?

"Well, this is certainly a simple question," Hermione mused.

The platinum-blonde witch before her, quill poised over parchment, nodded eagerly for her to continue. "…So? Heels or flats?"

"Well, I would say that flats are much more comfortable than heels."

Would she, though?

Hermione had planted herself firmly on the overstuffed sofa levitating a foot off the slate floor in the back corner of a dark lit room. A song by Shadowsplat played through the radio, which was magically connected to a sort of speaker system to complicated to describe to Muggles (no offense).

The dance floor was packed with every Gryffindor at Hogwarts, dancing and glwashing (which is something like moshing, but it involves using charms to make one another move in odd ways) to the screaming of the aforementioned popular band. Two red heads stood out over everyone else. They were moving closer to Hermione's side of the room, where she sat absolutely alone.

One of the redheads caught her eye. She looked away, but not before he grinned. She knew what this meant, and thought she was not still looking at the twins she knew that they would try to drag her into all of this. Hermione pulled at the hem of her velvet sundress-length dress and crossed her legs.

"'Mione!" one of the twins shouted. She tried not to look up. For a moment, it seemed that her forced ignorance of the 6th Year Weasley's existence had paid off. This happy hope, however, snapped when she heard the voice much closer to her. "Oi, Granger," the twin hummed into her ear. She turned abruptly and lashed out with the back of her hand, but he caught her by the wrist. She glared down at his hand, then looked sternly at his freckled face. He smiled impishly, eyes daring her to come and play.

"I don't want to dance, Fred. Er…George. Whoever you are, then," she mumbled, retrieving her hand from his grasp. She looked at the stone wall beside her. Suddenly she felt a large, warm hand on the small of her back and she jumped upwards, almost toppling over in her black pumps.

"Whoa!" she whimpered, teetering and flapping like someone gone mad. "Ak!" she shouted as she fell backwards, squeezing her eyes tight shut before she hit the ground…but she didn't hit the ground, because the Weasley had caught her just under the arms.

"I'm Fred, by the way. And yes, Granger, you _do_ want to dance."

Hermione huffed in indignation, pushing against Fred with her elbows, and thrust herself back upwards so she could turn around and face him with dignity. Off she kicked one heel and then the other, right under the couch. She planted her palms solidly on her hips, stepping right up against him and having to tilt her head upward to glare.

"I said I didn't want to dance, and _I don't want to dance_." Her finger jabbed Fred in the chest at each of these last five words, and he caught her hand on the last. His smile persisted.

"Oh, you do, Hermione. Accio shoes…" He drew a long wooden stick from his pocket and aimed under the couch. "I really think…" He stuffed the wand back in the pocket of his baggy jeans and snatched the pumps from midair. "You do."

He handed them to her and watched expectantly.

"You _can't _expect me to dance in these."

He looked at her expectantly and nodded.

"You want me to dance _in these?_" she said, slipping them back onto her feet even as she questioned.

Fred nodded and smiled, his eyes becoming playfully narrower. As soon as Hermione's shoes were on Fred whipped out his wand again and shot a beam of blue light towards the radio. There was an outburst of confusion from the crowd as the music changed to a slower song.

Hermione's brow wrinkled in confusion. "This is by Making April," she observed. "'These Are the Nights'…but this is Muggle music."

Fred chuckled as he stowed his want and grasped Hermione's hand. He pulled her other hand up to his neck and seized hold of her waist. "I'm not entirely ignorant, 'Mione. Now just you watch how easy it'll be in those shoes, now you're almost my height."

He was right, of course, as much as Hermione didn't want to admit it. After she had given up scowling, she found slow dancing very easy with Fred. The shoes gave her a feeling of gracefulness, almost comfort. She felt as though if she could dance in these, she could manage anything.

Fred's hands guided her every move, and soon, he obviously felt confident enough to spin her. "Quick little steps, now. Don't lose heart," he whispered quickly, staying in step. He released her waist and she his neck, and she took three quick steps out. Her feet moved fast as she spun in a circle, her dress puffing out as she did so.

"Ready?" he stage-whispered, pulling her back in and dipping her, smiling dazzlingly as he pulled her back up and the song ended. "I told you."

"So…" the Ravenclaw girl coaxed impatiently, for Hermione was still staring out into space. "Flats. Cool."

"No, wait…heels. And put down," she added, "'only when dancing.'"

Laylin copied down Hermione's words, a confused look playing on her face.


End file.
